


Milkshakes

by General_Button



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (or rather aliens made Shiro lactate), Aliens Made Them Do It, Friends to Lovers, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 07:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16114160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/General_Button/pseuds/General_Button
Summary: In order to ensure a fruitful alliance with a species of animal-like aliens called the Ankarine, Shiro takes one for the team and consumes a traditional dish that ends up having unforeseen consequences.





	Milkshakes

**Author's Note:**

> *sipping wine* don't look at me like that

“Please, drink!”

The drink that the locals were offering them didn’t seem particularly appetizing. Mixed with some sort of animal or insect part, it was noxious green, and when Shiro peered into its depths, it bubbled.

Princess Allura was currently undergoing peace talks with the locals—the Ankarine—and as such they had been invited back onto their planet to partake in festivities. This was not unusual.

The unusual parts usually came from the food, like now. The paladin's hesitation was warranted, because the last time they’d feasted with a species, they had nearly been poisoned. They'd just been lucky that the poison they used—alien equivalent of basil—was completely harmless to humans.

Suffice to say, that species had not become a part of the Voltron Coalition.

The Ankarine, however, were soft and gentle creatures that seemed to want to do no harm. They were the perfect target for the empire, and protecting them was tantamount.

They were animal-like, covered in a light coating of fur, with long ears that hung down the sides of their faces. They had large families and seemed to view fertility as one of their greatest virtues.

“So they’re always fucking?” Lance had whispered, not quiet enough that the ambassador standing in front of him couldn’t hear. She shifted her gaze to Lance, curious about the language he had used. Shiro had just been grateful that curse words didn’t translate well.

When they mentioned they were gifting them a drink that was created from the secret family recipe of their king, nobody had taken the bait. Shiro, however, had known that to forge a strong connection he would need to take one for the team, and he expressed an interest in trying it.

The ambassador, a female Ankarine with a name that sounded something like Judy, pushed the bowl closer in Shiro’s direction, her smile turning up a notch.

Shiro repressed a shudder as she wiggled the bowl, already regretting his own polite nature.

“Please,” she said. “Unless you would rather not. We understand if you are hesitant to do so; your princess explained what happened to you before.” 

Despite understanding their wariness to take on food that might be a detriment to their health and immune systems, she looked sad at the prospect, her ears drooping. All her companions shared this sentiment, their faces falling, as if they couldn’t imagine that anyone wouldn’t want to drink what sounded an awful lot like garbage.

“No, no. I’ll drink it,” Shiro said, his voice pitched with false cheer. He gingerly took the bowl from her, his lips curling back in distaste as the scent wafted up into his nose. It was tangy and sharp, and when he took another whiff, he realized that it smelled a little bit like…

Milk.

It was odd, but he didn’t dare question their sacred dish. Tipping his head back, Shiro lifted the bowl, squeezing his eyes shut as the liquid passed his lips.

He twitched in surprise the moment the creamy texture filled his mouth, the flavor bursting brightly on his tongue.

Shiro made a sound and tipped his head back further, his throat bobbing as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful, eager to inhale every last drop.

Once he’d finished, he presented the bowl back to the ambassador. She looked pleased, grinning at Shiro with a wide smile.

“Did you like it?” she asked.

Shiro burped in reply.

“I’m so sorry,” he hurried to say, horrified. God, what was wrong with him? Only one bowl, and his stomach already felt full. “Excuse me. It was just—that was delicious! I had no idea it would taste like that. Thank you.”

“It is our pleasure!” she crooned, clapping her hands together.

And thus, the peace talks commenced, with much greater enthusiasm from the Ankarine, now that one of the members of Voltron had accepted their traditional dish.

Allura quietly instructed them all to keep an eye on Shiro for any signs on an abnormality, but after a few hours, Shiro could honestly say he was feeling pretty good. Whatever weird milky substance had been in the drink, it made him feel content and happy in a way he didn’t quite understand, far from the basil-poison incident of a few months ago.

His good mood lasted the rest of the day, barely abating even as the talks dragged on for hours. It was only when night started to set in on the planet that the day’s activities caught up with him.

“I can’t believe you just sucked it down like that,” Lance said at dinner. He pointed his spoon at Shiro. “Was it really delicious, or were you lying?”

“I wasn’t lying,” Shiro said. “It was really good.”

“Man, now I wish I’d had some,” Hunk said, pouting. “I love trying new alien food.”

“Perhaps we should wait until Shiro’s had time to digest it,” Allura cut in, sliding down next to Shiro. She spooned some food goo into her mouth, giving them all pointed looks. “We can’t leave this to chance. Shiro will undergo a preliminary scan tonight before bed, just to be safe, and then we’ll keep an eye on him tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Shiro protested. “I feel fine. Trust me, if I was sick, you’d know.”

“You _are_ looking pretty healthy all of a sudden.” Lance squinted at him, leaning over to get a better look at Shiro’s complexion. “It’s like you’re _glowing.”_

Shiro blinked as Lance leaned in close, inserting himself into his space.

After a few years out in space, fighting bad guys and kicking ass with Voltron, Lance had really filled out. The boyish frame that Shiro had once observed in him was gone, replaced by a version of Lance that was much…bigger.

Shiro’s eyes were drawn to his biceps, flexing as he stretched across the table.

“Lance!” Keith chastised, tugging Lance backwards. “You’re making Shiro uncomfortable.”

Mistaking Shiro’s quiet for discomfort, Keith glared at Lance until he rolled his eyes and spoke to Shiro, offering a half-baked apology.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. There’s just something about Shiro face, isn’t there? Am I crazy?”

“Yes,” Keith deadpanned.

Pidge shrugged. “Looks the same to me.”

Lance kept staring at him, his brow furrowed. Shiro had assumed that he was teasing him about his claims, but the expression on his face was telling.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Lance,” Shiro said. He smiled. “You’ll be the first to know if something goes wrong.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Don’t patronize me, Shiro. I got it; dropping it now.”

* * *

Over the next few days, things changed.

Shiro didn’t feel worse, but there was definitely something going on with his body.

For one, his chest felt tight and sore. At first, he had assumed that he had strained it during his usual workout, but then dismissed the idea; he didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, and Hunk and Lance had been with him the whole time, asking him for his help on occasion. If anything, he had worked out _less._

Besides, it wasn’t anything worth noting, so Shiro ignored the signs and kept quiet. They allied with the Ankarine, ensured their cooperation, and moved on to the next system to liberate it from the empire’s control. Everything was normal.

Then the soreness in Shiro’s chest faded, to his relief, but it gave way to something indescribable. He didn’t know what to make it.

His chest felt…full.

His breasts felt heavy, tensed like a muscle, and his nipples were sensitive, sharp sensation cutting through him every time he brushed them.

Shiro frowned at himself in the mirror, turning to the side to get a better look at his pecs. His breasts were aching, so swollen and tender that he didn’t know what to do with them.

He brought his hand up and pressed his fingertips into the swell of his right breast; instantly, a warm feeling surfaced inside him, and the tightness began to build. He moved his hand to his nipple, swirling his fingers around the soft flesh for a few seconds where it hurt the most.

He pinched his nipple between his thumb and forefinger and then braced himself over the sink, curling forward, a strangled moan slipping from him as the pressure let off.

After a few seconds, a thick, creamy liquid began to bead and run over his fingers.

“Oh, god, what’s—” _what’s happening,_ he wanted to say, to question the validity of what was occurring, but it felt so _good_ to let go of pressure that had been building inside him for days. His fingers moved like they had a mind of their own, tugging and pulling at his nipple, drawing more of it from his breast.

 _This is crazy,_ he thought. _I’m going crazy. This can’t be happening._

Letting go, Shiro reached down and swiped his finger through the liquid. He sniffed it; it smelled an awful lot like…milk. But that couldn’t be possible. Men didn’t lactate—not naturally.

After what was a long moment of hesitation, Shiro put his finger in his mouth. The taste reminded him of the drink that he’d been given when they had helped the Ankarine. It was creamy, thick, and sweet.

His hands gravitated back to his nipples. He didn’t want to mess with it when he wasn’t sure what might happen, but god, his chest _ached._

He cupped his full breast and squeezed, watching as the liquid pearled, slipping down the curve of his chest, and then continued to flow.

In the span of a few seconds, milk had started to stream steadily from his nipple. There was so _much_ of it; enough that it quickly began to fill up bottom of the sink.

He didn’t understand what was happening, or how it was happening, but that it _was_ happening.

Shiro’s hand was white where he was gripping the sink’s edge; he trembled with each squeeze, incapable of doing anything other than moaning from intense relief as he—as he _milked_ himself. It felt so good it was almost like an orgasm, and soon he had both hands pinching and pulling at his nipples.

Shiro gave them a vicious twist, waves of hot pleasure flooding his hips. Milk squirted from his breasts and into the sink, the excess dribbling down his fingers.

“ _Ah—_ ”

He didn’t realize he was moaning loudly until his voice bounced off the walls, echoing back at him. He opened his eyes to look at himself in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize the person staring back at him. His face was twisted in his pleasure, and his nipples were hard and flushed red from the assault he’d put them under.

His eyes flicked down. His dick was rock hard in his underwear, tenting his boxer-briefs obscenely.

 _This is wrong,_ he thought, letting go of his nipples and bracing his hands on the sink. It was full to the brim with milk. _Shiro’s_ milk.

He swallowed, pushing down on the catch so that it would drain away.

Dragging the back of his hand down his face, Shiro groaned. His nipples were tingling, small beads of milk still clinging to his chest.

_This is so fucked up._

It had to have been those aliens and their weird milk-drink that had done this to him. That was the only plausible explanation for why he would be lactating like this.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? Tell someone?

Keith would support him, sure. He would treat him gently, always wary of hurting his feelings. Allura and Coran would probably treat him like a patient, distancing themselves. Hunk would probably make some sort of food joke in an attempt to lighten the mood, followed by some technological babble from Pidge.

Lance would—

He slammed down on the thought before it could form.

 _No,_ Shiro decided. There was no way in hell he could tell anyone about this or he would be a laughingstock. He was going to keep this a secret, and with any luck, it would go away on its own now that he had taken care of the problem.

* * *

About a week after he had—Shiro winced just thinking about the term— _milked_ himself, the pressure was back. His breasts felt swollen and tender, begging for a relief that he had no choice but to give or he’d go insane.

That night, Shiro tried to get to his room as quickly as possible, but of course, it was never that easy.

“Have you been working out?” Lance asked him, just as he was trying to leave. “‘Cause damn, you look good, Shiro.”

They were post-training, having just finished running a few drills to keep their reflexes sharp. Shiro had performed well enough, but he’d been antsy, itching to release the pressure. His armor had felt like it was digging into his chest, making it a thousand times worse.

“I always work out,” Shiro replied, hands pausing at the bottom of his shirt. The swell of his chest seemed even more obvious now, straining over the top edge of his tank top. It had felt good to wear something light, but he was regretting the decision now that Lance was staring at him so intently.

Lance’s eyes flicked briefly down before going back to Shiro’s face. His expression was odd.

Shiro could feel himself starting to flush.

“You got any tits— _tips,”_ Lance corrected, choking on a cough. His cheeks went pink. “Tips. You got any, uh, tips? I’m trying to bulk up, y’know?”

He flexed, showing off muscles that had admittedly gotten bigger over the course of their time out in space. He was still lean, and if Shiro had to describe him he might use the words like wiry, but Lance was no wilting flower.

“Not bad,” Shiro said, his tone light. He reached out and squeezed the curve of his bicep, expecting Lance to balk and back away. Instead, Lance flexed harder, his smile turning cocky.

It was the kind of smile he would direct at the various women he was trying to impress. It had always struck Shiro as silly that it ever worked, but now that it was turned on him, he was beginning to notice how it accentuated his features.

Shiro had to give it to him: Lance was handsome.

Then Lance shifted towards him, and Shiro was suddenly made aware of the proximity between them. He still had his hand on Lance’s arm, who was practically caging him against the wall, that same smile still plastered on his face.

“Yeah?” Lance’s hand grazed Shiro’s hip. “Enough to take you down?”

“Maybe.” Shiro shifted away purposefully, his heart skipping a beat. “Give it a few years of training and I think you’ll get there.”

Lance pouted, stepping back.

“A few years? Pfft. I’ll see you in the training room next week, baby.”

“Uh huh.” Shiro watched him back away, and couldn’t resist the urge to shout, “Eat your greens!”

Lance gave him the finger before he left the room.

* * *

There were now various problems that Shiro was dealing with, on top of trying to win a war against an evil empire.

The first was that Lance wouldn’t leave him alone.

It wasn’t that he was being invasive of Shiro’s privacy, or he was acting bothersome—because Shiro did actually like talking to Lance—but Lance somehow always managed to find Shiro at the worst possible times, talking with him, sometimes even flirting, as if Shiro was one of the various aliens he was always trying to woo.

Which brought him to his second problem.

Initially, Shiro only needed to milk himself a few times a week, but as time wore on, he started having to do it every other day, because if he didn't, he leaked all over the place, feeling like he was going to explode. And maybe because of this, what started as a satisfying, if not humiliating, experience became, in no uncertain terms…completely _un_ satisfying. He didn’t enjoy the ritual like he once had, and to top it all off, the frequency with which he required it was getting out of hand.

The worst part was that there was just something intrinsically, deeply satisfying, about the act itself; he felt overpowered, rendered a trembling mess as all the tension flooded out of his body in desperate, aching pulls. Shiro hated that he loved doing it, and he hated the fact that he felt so frustrated that it didn't feel as good anymore.

He had hoped that over time the effects would be negated by how much goddamn milk he was getting out of himself, but the opposite situation occurred: it worsened with time, getting to the point where Shiro had to secretly buy ointment that he rubbed on and around his nipples if he didn’t want them to start to crack or bleed. It offered him some relief, but the fact remained: he couldn’t stop doing it, and now he didn’t even enjoy it.

* * *

A few nights later, after training was said and done and they were the only ones left in the room, Shiro was stopped once again by Lance.

“I was hoping I could talk to you,” Lance said, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant.

 _Not again,_ Shiro thought.

He was thankful Lance had moved on from his sense of hero worship, and their relationship had shifted to a place of mutual respect. Lance didn’t shy away from arguing with Shiro when he felt it was necessary, and he contributed a lot more to the team than Shiro had ever thought he would at the beginning of this journey.

However, as much as he wanted to hear what he had to say, today was, like most days were starting to become, not the best of days to chat. Shiro was eager to get back to his room; his chest was aching, practically throbbing with need.

“What is it?” He asked. “Can it wait?”

“No.” Lance bit his lip and stepped closer. “Shiro—I feel like sometimes you still treat me like a kid. You know I’m not some dumb teenager, right?”

“Right.” Shiro nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest, and then winced, letting them fall. God, his chest felt _so_ sensitive. “I know that, Lance.”

It was kind of hard not to when Lance was shoving his handsome face in front of Shiro all the time.

Lance didn’t seem like he had expected that answer. His mouth fell open, and then he crossed his arms.

“Well, good. Because I’m not.”

“I do it out of habit more than anything,” Shiro said apologetically. “I know you’re a capable soldier and teammate. You’re a good man, Lance.”

Lance’s eyes lit up, pleased by his response, and he took another step. He had Shiro backed up against the wall now. He was nearly Shiro’s height, tall enough to make him hesitate when he pressed his hand next to Shiro’s head on the wall.

“What are you doing?” Shiro asked, looking at the placement of his hand, and then Lance's face, more amused than anything.

Lance sighed.

“Shiro, do I really have to spell it out for you? I’m _trying_ to seduce you. I’ve been trying for _weeks_ now. Do you have any idea how hard it is to flirt with someone who’s as oblivious as you are?”

Shiro’s brain abruptly stopped working at the words coming out of Lance’s mouth.

“Flirt?”

“Yes, holy crow. I’ve been flirting with you, Shiro. You’re so lucky you’re cute.”

“Cute,” Shiro repeated, still completely dumbfounded. He was tempted to take this as a joke, but then Lance leaned in, barely giving him a moment to process what was happening before he was being kissed.

Shiro made a sound, too surprised to even react.

This is what Lance had been doing when he’d been talking to him, spending more time with him. _Flirting_ with him.

It seemed so obvious now. How had he not noticed? Lance was attracted to him, like Shiro had slowly started realizing he was attracted to Lance.

Undeterred by the lack of response, Lance cupped the side of his face and pressed another kiss to his mouth, startling Shiro into finally kissing him back.

God, he hadn’t been kissed in years. Not since way before Kerberos. Shiro hummed contentedly, hands coming up to Lance’s shoulders.

The quiet smack of their lips was the only sound in the room for a while. Lance’s fingers were rubbing tiny, maddening circles into the sides of his face, moving teasingly up into his hairline.

“You smell really good,” Lance said, pulling back a few inches. “Whatever deodorant you’ve started wearing, I want some of that.”

Shiro blinked at him, dazed. Lance kissed him again, wetting his lips with his tongue before he dove in, sliding his lips along Shiro’s expertly.

Shiro placed a steadying hand on Lance’s hip. Lance pressed him up against the wall, his free hand pushing up into Shiro’s chest. That had Shiro gasping into his mouth, his eyes snapping open as he felt something wet spread across the fabric of his shirt.

“Sensitive, huh?” Lance murmured, misunderstanding his reaction. “I always figured.”

He gently squeezed the underside of Shiro’s breast, and Shiro tore his head away, a moan slipping out of him as the pressure increased. He could _feel_ the milk leaking onto his shirt, but Lance—he hadn’t noticed. He was busy pressing warm, insistent kisses along his cheek and jawline.

Shiro needed to get out here. This thing with Lance; this new, potentially amazing thing was worth exploring, but his chest was _leaking,_ and Lance was putting both hands on his chest now, kneading his fingers into the flesh like he couldn’t get enough.

“Lance, please. I’m—”

He moaned when Lance’s finger grazed his nipple.

Why did it feel so _good_ with Lance did it? It hadn’t felt this satisfying in weeks, and Lance had barely touched him. He didn’t have long to ponder, because Lance was reaching for the bottom of his shirt, fingers teasing the sliver of skin he’d exposed.

“You really worked up a sweat, buddy. Let’s get this thing off you.”

“No!”

Shiro reared back, knocking Lance’s hands off him. He didn’t mean to shout, but he was—there was no way he could let Lance know about what was going on with his body. It felt so good to have Lance’s hands on him, and he was half-hard in his underwear, but his nipples were peaked, poking out from beneath his shirt. His very _wet_ shirt.

Lance was staring down at him, eyes widening with surprise as he realized something wasn’t quite right, but before he could say anything, Shiro crossed his arms and did the only thing he could think to do: he fled.

* * *

Shiro lurched towards the bathroom, hands already reaching to tug at his shirt. He tossed it over his head and then stumbled over to the sink, pausing to take in the sight.

His nipples were shiny from the milk that had leaked out of him, and more droplets were already beginning to drip down his front. He felt so full he could burst, hands itching to reach up and start relieving himself of the pressure.

Then came a knock at his door.

Shiro peeked around the bathroom doorway, brow furrowed. A familiar voice sounded through the wall.

“Shiro?” Lance called, knocking again. “Can we talk about what just happened?”

Lance had always been more persistent than given credit. It was a good thing. Usually. Shiro was reminded of Lance’s hands on his body and felt his chest throb. 

“Lance, this really isn’t the time! I’m kind of busy here!”

“Did I fuck this up?” he called. “Because I swear I didn’t mean to pressure you! It's just—you were sitting there looking all sexy and sweaty. I mean, what was I supposed to do? _Not_ kiss you?”

Shiro smiled, despite himself.

“Lance—” He sighed, walking over to the door. He leaned against the wall, careful not to exacerbate his chest. “It’s not you. Nothing you did was wrong. I just—you should go.”

“Then what is it? How can I fix it?” He could hear the whine in Lance’s voice. “Whatever it is, I’ll apologize. I don’t want to ruin this more than I already have.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. I told you, it’s not you.”

“Then what is it?! And I swear if you use the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line, I’ll break this door down right now.”

“I’m not. I won’t. But…it _is_ me. There’s…” Shiro bit his lip. He didn’t know how to even approach a topic like this. “Do you remember when I drank the Ankarine’s ancient dish thing?”

“Right, the nasty looking soup. You said it tasted good. Were you—is everything okay?”

There was worry seeping into his voice. He sounded close, like he was pressing his face against the door.

“Technically, yes. I’m fine.”

“Shiro, you freaked out on me earlier because I don’t even know why, and now you’re telling me about the drink from weeks ago. What’s going on?”

Shiro opened his mouth, and then closed it. Honestly, what was he thinking? His head was a mess; telling Lance about his problem would be suicide, especially considering their non-existent romance that would die the moment he realized Shiro was lactating uncontrollably.

“It’s nothing,” he said, before he could help it.

“Shiro, come on! You know you can trust me. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. It’s clearly been bothering you. I’m not an idiot. I’ve noticed how you’ve been keeping to yourself lately.”

“That’s right, you’re not an idiot. Which is exactly why…” Shiro rubbed his hands up and down his stomach to keep them from moving up where he wanted them most. “You should go. Just forget this all happened, and everything will go back to normal.”

Even though that was the last thing Shiro wanted to happen, he knew without a doubt this could never get out. Eventually it had to stop, and then things could return to sense of normalcy for all of them.

His declaration was met with silence.

Shiro waited, expecting to hear an indignant squawk or a shout of irritation. When nothing was immediately forthcoming, he surmised that Lance must have left. He must have gotten tired of listening to Shiro make excuses and walked away, like Shiro had wanted.

Sighing, Shiro slid down to the ground and put his head in his hands, feeling shittier than ever.

 _This is such a mess,_ he thought. Why had he taken that drink? No one had forced him to do it and now—now he might have just ruined something that could have been amazing.

Then came the sound of Lance’s voice again.

“Is that what you really want?” he said, so quiet that Shiro almost didn’t hear him. Shiro’s head snapped up, stupidly relieved to hear his voice.

He shouldn’t have been, but he was. He shouldn’t have wanted this, but he did.

He thought of Lance’s hands on his chest; how good it at felt, the promise of relief. He thought of Lance’s mouth, and the quiet sounds of content he’d made.

He should lie; he should tell Lance that this was exactly what he wanted, but Lance’s concern was palpable, and really, did Shiro think that he was going to get away with keeping this a secret any longer?

“No,” he whispered. Then, louder, so Lance could hear him: “No.”

“Open the door, Shiro.”

Shiro pressed his palm on the bio-lock and watched as it slid open, revealing Lance, standing there, staring at him with wide eyes, like he hadn’t expected it to work.

He didn’t waste time, moving forward and pulling Shiro into a hug.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, squeezing him. It had the unfortunate side effect of pressing Shiro’s naked chest into him. He shivered as he felt Lance’s chestpiece start to grow wet.

Lance pulled away and looked down, his eyes widening at the sight.

“Um.”

“That’s—this is what I meant. When I said ‘technically’.” Shiro was blushing hot, trying to pull out of Lance’s embrace, but he held on firm. “Whatever they gave me, it made me…it made this happen. I started,” he swallowed around the word, his blush darkening, “lactating.”

“Holy crow.”

Lance was just staring at his nipples, watching the liquid trail down his chest. It wasn’t like normal milk, as far as Shiro could tell. It was thicker; sweeter.

“It’s been happening ever since then. And it’s been getting worse. I just—I couldn’t say anything because I was so embarrassed by it. I don’t know what to do.”

He glanced at Lance’s face, expecting to see disgust, but there was none to be found. Shiro was surprised by that. Disgust, he had expected, but if he didn’t know better, he’d say Lance almost looked hungry.

“This is why your tits have been so big lately?” Lance asked.

“My—” Shiro choked on a laugh. “You—um, you noticed?”

“Yeah,” Lance breathed. “How could I not?”

That simple statement made Shiro’s chest start to _ache._ He made a sound in the back of his throat, sliding his palms up Lance’s forearms impatiently.

“Fuck, I need…” For reasons inexplicable to him, he leaned into Lance, burrowing into his embrace. “I’ve gotta take care of this or I’ll go crazy.”

“Do you need my help?”

“What?”

“I can help you.” There was an eager edge to Lance’s voice. He wrapped an arm around Shiro’s waist, sliding his palm up and down the small of his back slowly, caressing the skin there. “I mean—if you want me to. You said it’s getting worse, right?”

Lance moved his other hand to Shiro’s right breast. He cupped it in his hand, squeezing it with the barest amount of pressure.

Shiro’s hips twitched towards him, biting down on his lower lip.

“God, Lance.” Just the slight pressure of Lance’s fingers squeezing him tenderly sent sparks running down his spine. Lance’s eyes flickered up to his face, and then he did it again, giving Shiro’s nipple a solid pinch.

Shiro moaned, his head falling forward onto Lance’s shoulder.

“Holy crap,” Lance said.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. That just feels—” _Amazing. Please, touch me again, and don’t stop._

As if reading his mind, with one hand Lance lifted his chin and kissed him, and with the other, he started squeezing.

Shiro moaned softly into his mouth, shuddering, pressing into his hand as the milk began to flow. It was thick and copious, flooding over Lances fingers, sliding down his wrists and onto the floor. Lance made a sound, surprised by the sheer volume, but Shiro was too deep in bliss to notice.

The utter _relief_ he felt at having someone else doing this for him was tremendous. Using his own hands had always felt nice, but this—this was on a whole new level.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Lance whispered. He was staring at him with wide eyes, massaging Shiro’s breast gently, but with firm and even pressure. “Holy crow.”

“Oh god.” Shiro whimpered as Lance tweaked his nipple. “Oh my god, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he repeated. “But that feels really good. Keep doing that, fuck. _Fuck.”_

He twitched backwards, curling forward and bracing his hand on Lance’s arm like he couldn’t decide which way he wanted to move. A part of himself was aware that they were making a mess of Shiro’s floor, but the larger part didn’t care. It just felt so _good._

Thankfully, Lance did the thinking for both of them. He released his hold on Shiro’s nipple and moved him into the bathroom, pushing him over the sink.

“I’m gonna keep going. Is that okay?”

Lance’s voice was low with arousal. He pressed up behind Shiro and reached around his front, cupping Shiro’s full chest with both hands. He gripped him greedily, splaying his fingers and squeezing the luscious handfuls.

Shiro arched back into Lance, head falling on his shoulder. He would have probably noticed how hard Lance was if he wasn’t so focused on his own pleasure. Lance’s fingertips were massaging his areola, teasing at the hard bud of his nipple, and Shiro _wanted._

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I just need you to—”

“I’ve got you,” Lance said breathlessly. He pressed a kiss to Shiro’s neck, squeezing both hands. “I’m gonna milk you so good, baby.”

Shiro almost came. It was such a cliché line, like something out of a bad porn vid, but Lance’s voice was rough and low in his ears, and hearing it said like that, as if there was nothing sexier than _milking_ Shiro was enough to nearly undo him. He thrust mindlessly at the air, his mouth falling open.

Lance didn’t bother waiting. He twisted and pinched at Shiro’s nipples, doing exactly as he’d promised. All the while Shiro could see his reflection in the mirror; his eyes were trained on Shiro, the intense focus on his face the exact opposite of how wrecked Shiro looked.

He squirmed in Lance’s grip, bracing his hands over Lance’s, tugging them down and then pushing them back up in turn. His chest felt like it was on fire, his nipples a direct line leading to his cock. Lance gave his breasts a good squeeze, grunting when the milk squirted over his fingers.

Shiro couldn’t be believe they were doing this. Just a few minutes ago, Lance had been kissing him in the training room, and now they were in his bathroom, milking his breasts _._

Lance took his hands off Shiro’s chest. It was sticky from all the milk. His chest still felt heavy, begging for more relief, but he was more satisfied than he had expected to feel, so moved to step away from Lance, assuming that his brief respite was over.

Which was why he was so surprised when Lance turned him around and pushed him back against the sink.

“Can I just—” He stopped, and then lowered his mouth to Shiro’s chest, hovering over his nipple. “It smells really good. _You_ smell really good, Shiro. I just want to try it.”

Shiro’s eyes widened when he realized what he was about to do.

“Lance,” he warned, a wild edge to his voice.

“Please?” Lance pressed a kiss to the swell of his breast. “It’ll help, won’t it?”

“I—”

Lance looked so _hopeful_ that Shiro felt slightly less disgusted by how much he wanted it to happen. He braced his hands on the edge of the sink and then nodded, closing his eyes.

He jerked when he felt Lance’s lips wrap around his nipple. His mouth was warm and wet, much softer than his fingers, which had felt rough on his sensitive skin. With his right hand, Lance squeezed Shiro’s breast until milk began to flow, and then he was—he was—

“Oh god,” Shiro moaned. He put one hand over Lance’s head, fingers winding into his hair. “Oh my god Lance, that feels—oh my _god_.”

Lance made a sound and gently nibbled on his nipple. Shiro managed to wrench his eyes open and then wished he hadn’t; Lance had his eyes closed, focused solely on gently squeezing Shiro’s milk into his waiting mouth. Shiro could see his throat bobbing, a thin trail of milk escaping from the corner of his mouth.

He was _drinking_ it. Lance was drinking the milk coming out of him. The thought was so arousing that Shiro tugged harder on Lance’s hair, shoving his free hand over the bulge of his cock.

Usually this was the part where Shiro stopped because the flow started to lag, but Lance was determined; even after Shiro was certain he couldn’t produce any more milk, Lance’s tongue continued to flick and drag over his nipple, lathering it in attention. Then he _sucked_ , lips parting so he could fit more of it into his mouth, swallowing rapidly so that none of the milk escaped.

That was all it took. Sharp, aching pleasure sliced through Shiro and he sobbed up at the ceiling as he came, his hips twitching erratically. He held Lance against his chest through the aftershocks and Lance obliged, sucking on his nipple until Shiro felt so sensitive from the dual stimulation that he pushed him away.

Shiro leaned back against the edge of the sink, trembling so hard he wasn't sure he could move. His chest heaved, moving up and down like he’d just run a marathon. His mind felt fuzzy and slow and _good_.

Lance straightened, licking his lips. Then he leaned over and kissed Shiro, the taste of Shiro’s milk still heavy on his tongue.

“Fuck,” Shiro said succinctly. “That was…oh my god. I-I don’t even know what to say right now. I didn’t expect you to do—any of that.”

“Neither did I,” Lance said, smirking. “The way you look, Shiro—I wish I could fuck you right now. You look so sexy.”

Inexplicably, Shiro started laughing.

“Hey, you’re not allowed to laugh! That was supposed to be hot.”

“It was!” Shiro giggled harder, straightening up, still using the sink for support. “I’m just feeling a little loopy right now. It’s always like that after—” He waved his hand. “Yeah.” He felt wonderful, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

“Oh, I have an idea. The way you looked when I was milking you?” Shiro flushed at the term. “You were beautiful. Why did you hide it?”

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” Shiro drawled. “Getting aroused as I lactate from my nipples is completely normal. How stupid of me.”

“You know what I mean.” Lance leaned down and lapped up at the leftover milk on his chest, pausing to bite at one of his nipples. “We could've helped figure it out before it got that bad.”

“Don’t,” Shiro whined. “I’m going to leak.”

Lance blinked at him. “It should be illegal for you to say things like that. I’m so turned on right now.”

Shiro glanced down at the evidence backing up Lance’s claim. He was still dressed in the paladin armor, and the bodysuit did little to hide his erection. Shiro reached for it out of instinct, and then paused.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes!” Lance started ripping his armor off his body, setting it aside. Then he reached for his bodysuit and unzipped it, letting it drop to the floor before stepping out of it.

Now that he was naked, Shiro took a better look at his dick. It was short, but thick, and a bead of precome pearled at the tip when Shiro wrapped his hand around it.

“You sure?” he asked again.

Lance kissed him in reply.

“You can stop asking,” he said. “It is one-hundred percent okay to touch my dick. I’m literally naked right now.”

Shiro glanced down at his cock again, running his palm up and down the underside experimentally. Lance’s breath huffed warmly over Shiro’s neck, and then started thrusting into his fist. Shiro let him do most of the work; from what he could tell, Lance was already pretty close, and he seemed to know what he wanted. He kept touching Shiro’s chest, cupping the weight of his pecs in his hands. When he came, he peppered a few kisses just above Shiro’s nipples, like he was restraining himself, and finished with a loud sigh.

“Mm, I love your tits.” A second later, Lance realized exactly what he’d said, and he blushed an adorable shade of red. “I’m sorry, but—you should _see_ them, Shiro.”

“I do,” Shiro said, more amused than irritated. “Every day.”

“And then you wear a tank top and I may as well just forget doing anything for the rest of my life,” Lance continued, ignoring him. “It should be illegal for someone to be as hot as you are.”

“Thanks,” Shiro said, smiling. “I think.”

Lance returned his smile, the corners of his mouth stretching into his familiar goofy grin. He looked so _happy,_ despite the ridiculousness of the situation they were in.

And honestly, Shiro was happy, too.

He tugged Lance in for a kiss, deciding that maybe this whole thing hadn’t been completely awful after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this filth! I feel like it goes without saying since this is about a gross kink, but just in case, I do know that's not how lactation normally works lol


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